Wings
by LeopardFang
Summary: Steve is a small and scrawny 16-year-old. He lives on the streets, pickpocketing strangers for a living. He does though have a pair of feathery wings on his back that enable him to fly, but he has to keep them hidden because others wouldn't ever understand. Then he meets a group of misfits around his age with wings, and gets thrown into a you-might-die adventure. (Wing!Fic)


**This story is about as AU as you can get. It is also really dark as well. This is only what I have decided to be the first chapter. If you decide that you want me to post more to this story than I can possibly continue this, but it's mainly up to the plot bunnies not me. Though if you review, favorite, or follow it will surly raise the chances of being continued.**

 **Anyways… If you want go ahead and read on you can…**

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Steve awoke to pain.

He might have been alarmed by this, but he had gotten used to pain. He had learned to gauge just how bad the injury was and how recent the injury was just by just the pain level. He knew this pain was just from getting stabbed earlier, right in the side. It had hurt like hell then, but now the pain was fading. Small waves of pain still stung his side though. He sighed inwardly, he knew he shouldn't have tried pulling that stunt, he coulda gotten himself killed.

He yawned as he opened his eyes. The night sky was dark, but he lived in the city so he couldn't really see any stars. He sat up. His golden hair fell into his eyes and he angrily brushed it away. His hair was always falling in his eyes; he knew he really should have gotten used to it by now. He rolled his shoulders and neck, hating their soreness but there was nothing else to expect when you slept on concrete. He shoved away the ragged remains of a blanket that he had used every night for years, off his legs.

He stood up and stretched out his arms. He then decided he should probably get going. He might be able to catch a few bucks from early risers, they were easier to pick pocket when they are half asleep. He crouched onto the ground beside his worn torn-up black backpack. He unzipped the backpack and stuffed his blanket inside, before pulling out a water bottle and a power bar. He drowned about half of the water and then ate the power bar hungrily. He left a small piece of the power bar for the rat he knew liked to hang around. He didn't know why he feed it, he should just let it starve and not give away any of the small amounts of food he had, he needed all the food he could get. But instead he left it a piece, deciding at the least it would save him from smelling the smell of decay. Besides, he had kinda formed a bond with the rat. As crazy as that sounds.

Steve zipped up his backpack. Then he pulled up the hood of his gray jacket. His shirt had two slits for his wings to slide out of, but his hoodie did not and this caused soreness since his wings were forced to fold tightly against his back, not that he wanted to have his wings stretched out. Okay that was a lie, he _wanted_ to have his wings out, but he couldn't let people see them. People didn't accept anyone different from them; He had learned that the hard way. He shouldered his backpack, hating how it jarred his sore wings.

He glanced around him, even though there was no point because he knew no one was there since he had not felt anyone watching him. He had this ability to feel when people were watching him, he figured it was from years of living on the streets. Sure enough, no one was there. He saw only the vandalized concrete wall behind him and the old houses on either side that were to infested with about every type of mold to be lived in. He began walking to the end of the back ally. He lived in what could be labeled 'the bad part of town'. Even though he knew that a better term would be, 'the worst part of the city'.

Steve tugged his backpack tighter around him as he stepped onto the larger street. He felt people watching him, but wasn't really surprised considering there were lots of people spread out around this street. He walked a little way before he found a stable concrete wall to lean on. He leaned on it, looking casual. He then chewed as if he had gum, to give him the appearance of a person who actually had a job and a gun. Even though he had neither. Jobs around here were scarce; the few there were mostly consisting of selling illegal drugs or non-registered guns for outrageous prices. Mostly though, this place was houses or bars. But there was a gas station and a hotel for the few people stupid enough to pass through this way to get to the city.

Steve glanced around, he saw an older women walking down the street with an expensive purse. She was most likely a tourist, seeming very few people here actually had enough money to buy anything other than food, water, and any of drugs they were most likely hooked on. Though, some people with money decided to risk it and live here. They never had anything showing off their money to avoid being targeted by pickpockets though. Steve was just about to do a little pickpocketing himself, before he saw the hand gun secured in her belt. He scowled darkly and went back to looking for targets.

Steve eventually saw a man that was getting out of an expensive car. Not many people owned expensive cars around here, or any cars at all really, so Steve wasn't surprised when he saw the license plate was from a distant state. The man was faced towards Steve, a large pile of folders and binders lay in the man's arms. The man's wallet lay on top of the stack, a major mistake in this area. Steve pulled down his hood to expose his face, knowing that it was likely the man wouldn't think a young person would steal his stuff. Steve was 16, so it wasn't really like he was a little-little kid but he was scrawny and short for his age so he looked even younger than he was.

Steve walked towards the man, but not directly at him. Steve flicked out a foot as he passed the man, a foot angled specifically so that the man would trip over it. It worked like clockwork, the man didn't notice Steve's foot and tripped over it. The man stumbled sideways but didn't fall. He did though knock into Steve as he stumbled, and Steve crashed to the ground, along with all the man's stuff. The man spoke quickly, "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Are you hurt?"

Steve shook his head in the negative in response, not because it hadn't hurt, but because his plan had worked perfectly. The wallet had skidded to a place just to the right of Steve, in grabbing range. The man crouched down and began to pick up his folders and binders. The man was turned away from Steve for a moment, and Steve took the chance. He grabbed the man's wallet and then quietly got to his feet and slipped into the shadows of the street nearest to him.

The man didn't notice Steve left, and so he didn't follow Steve when Steve snuck around the corner and then walked behind a row of houses. Steve hid out there for a few minutes before he went back into the street and walked back to his tiny ally. Once there, he sat down on the ground. Most people avoided this area because the mold on the surrounding houses was supposedly toxic. To Steve the mold sure _smelled_ toxic, but it had never harmed him so he decided it was fine to live beside the houses. He paused at the ever-present wheezing of his breath. Well at least he hadn't died and his skin hadn't had started to peel off. It was safe, enough. Safer than camping out on the streets, where it was likely he'd get robbed or murdered.

Steve sat down on the ground and opened up the small leather wallet. On one side there was a driver's license, a credit card, and a gift card. On the other side was about forty dollars in cash and a few dollars in coins. He was lucky to have found a tourist, people over here never carried any more money than fifteen dollars for they knew of the high number of pickpockets. Tourists though carried enough money to give him weeks of money, since he only bought 'food' and water, just like this one. Steve softly held up the cash to the sunlight that had just begun to flutter in, he found it wasn't counterfeit. He hissed a soft, "Jackpot."

He knew it was too risky to use the credit card, and the gift card was to a place he had never heard of. He took out the cash and split it into three even-ish groups. He stuck one group in his back pocket. He then let his backpack fall beside him, he unzipped it and stuck another group of cash in his backpack. He stuck the coins and the remaining cash into his front pocket. It was easier to not get all your money stolen when you split it up. He left the cards in the wallet and tossed the wallet in the far corner, where a bunch of other wallets lay. Wallets that he had taken earlier in his lifetime. He then began to walk away again.

The first thing he did was trek across the road and behind several sets of houses. He eventually found himself in front of the gas station. He walked inside and up to the counter. There was a girl around his age at the counter. She had light blonde hair tied up into a messy bun, and crystal blue eyes that watched your every move carefully. A shotgun sat against the counter, daring anyone to steal anything. Steve took out the money in his front pocket and slid it across the table to her, "Hey Bella, I'll take two water bottles and as many power bars as this will get me. Keep the change."

Steve let Bella keep the change because if this place went out of business he was screwed. He would have nowhere else to buy food and water. If power bars counted as food that is. He smiled as she slid two bottles of water and five power bars across the table to him. He walked over to the far side of the store and then opened up his backpack and stuck the water and power bars inside. He then felt three sets of eyes on him, one was obviously Bella's for she has been watching Steve since he had come in. But Steve had been the only other person in the gas station, now there were two other people besides him.

Steve's every muscle tensed and he instantly turned. A man and a women stood at the entrance. The man had thick dark hair and blue eyes that could only be described as 'sinister'. The women had caramel-and-black hair and guarded blue eyes. The women walked up to the counter, snapping her gum nonchalantly. She spoke to Bella, "I suggest you give over all the money you got. Plus the shotgun, don't you think of getting any ideas."

Steve heard the click of a gun and saw the man had pulled out a _very_ highly equipped, _very_ large gun with a _very_ large clip. The women had pulled out a handgun of some sort, It was pointed towards Bella who was already sliding over all they had requested at her. Bella knew that she might have been able to shoot one of them before they shot her, but not both of them before one of them got off a shot.

The intruders were either ignoring Steve, or hadn't noticed he was there. Steve knew what he had to do, he had to help Bella. Steve sometimes stole money, but only because he needed it. Steve never hurt anyone unless they hurt someone, or posed a danger to Steve. He had never fatally injured anyone though, only ran them off or knocked them out.

Steve carefully snuck behind the women, for she was nearer to Steve than the man. Steve was surprised that he was able to sneak up on the women, but he did anyway. He silently pulled out his pocketknife from his pocket. He acted fast after that. He lunged towards the women, wrapping one of his weak arms around her neck while the other limb slapped her wrist hard enough to make her drop the gun. The knife was to her neck before she could react. Steve spoke, "Give the money back."

The women let the money-stuffed duffel bag fall to her feet. The man had his gun trained on Steve's head and the man's hostile voice drifted over to Steve, "You let her go, or I'll coat these walls with you face."

Steve held back a shiver, knowing just how true that statement probably was. He knew that he had to act vicious for this to work. So he hid the terror that seemed to pour out of him, instead keeping his voice calm and calculating as he spoke, "Drop the gun or I'll cut her throat clear to the bone and let her bleed out on this perfect floor."

The man swallowed loudly, shifting on his feet uncertainly. Steve tightened his grip on the women's neck, crushing her windpipe. The women gasped for air, her hands coming up and clawing at his arms, one of her hands hit the knife and she hissed in pain when it sliced her hand. The man reacted finally, dropping the gun and his violent behavior to help his partner in crime. Then, Steve saw a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye.

Then there was pain.

The pain was intense, agonizing. It took over Steve's every sense. Steve yelped and jerked to the side. He tripped over something and skidded across the floor, colliding harshly with the wall. His right side flared from the impact, but it was nothing compared to the pain that shook his every single nerve. He gasped as a bittersweet metallic taste flooded into his mouth.

Somebody suddenly kicked Steve's ribs, leaving a sickening crack in its wake. Quickly after, came another harsh jolt of his side when a kick landed. Steve instantly curled up in a protective ball, he knew that more kicks were to come. Sure enough, another kick landed on his back, or more specifically the wings that were folded there. He let out an agonized shriek at the pain that ricocheted across his large wings and burned through the rest of him like fire. He wasn't even aware of his wings snapping out, the strong wings tearing through the material of his jacket to be released. His wings covered his whole body, shielding it from harm.

The kicks immediately stopped, and Steve was aware of gasps of surprise. Steve hadn't even realized that he had closed his eyes, but he was aware when they jolted open. All he saw was the familiar golden feathers that coated the tough hide of his wings. He shifted and let out a yelp when his ribs protested. He suddenly heard a voice, "They are gone. You can come out now"

Steve instantly recognized the voice of the cashier he saw twice a day every day, Bella a person he also dared to call a friend. He carefully unfolded his wings to see her standing above him. She smirked playfully, "You know that was a stupid idea, Right?"

Steve gave her a nervous grin and a nod. She rolled her eyes and reached out a hand. He took it reluctantly and let her pull him to his feet. She gave him a sideways glance and then looked at the counter to where the duffel bag from before lay, the shotgun propped up against it. She spoke, "It did work though. I'm not sure if it's worth it judging by those injuries, but it did work. I'm a little shocked about the wings though, you never told me you could fly, literally."

Steve gave her a smirk, trying to hide the shock that somebody actually accepted him with his wings. She rolled her eyes and then leaned forward, reaching her hands toward his wings. He instinctively jerked backward, away from her. At her hurt look he apologized, "I'm sorry, it's just that I show anyone my wings and they either get the hell away from me or try to send me off to-"

He cut off abruptly, letting his gaze drift away from her face. Then he carefully fluttered his wings, and stretched one out towards her. She reached forward and brushed her hand against it. She smiled slightly and then roughly closed her hand around it and jerked. Steve gasped in pain as she tore out a few feathers. He jerked away from her and backed away. Her furious words drifted over to him, "I thought that I had finally found someone worthy of my trust. Then I find out your just some freak who can't even defend himself!"

Steve stumbled backwards away from her, jolts of pain shooting across his wings. He suddenly felt pain in his side, he looked down and saw the hilt of a silver dagger stuck in his side. When did that happen? He gasped in surprise and instinctively tried to move his wings to guard him from the danger. One wing moved seamlessly into position, but the other lay stark and still against his back. Horror filled him as he wondered if maybe it was broken from her tugging at it. But then it moved, making sickening cracks as it went, into position. Steve then swept his wings behind him, focusing on Bella. She was running out the door, her shotgun clutched in her hands. The door slammed loudly behind her.

He was suddenly distracted by a dripping sound, and he looked to his feet where a growing puddle of blood lay. He mumbled to himself, "Oh. Shit. That's a lot of blood."

He lept from the ground, feeling the need to get to his safe-ish alley where He could stop the bleeding. His wings shot outward. His wings beat evenly to keep him in the air. Then one of his wings twitched and fell out of pattern and he found himself jerking to the side. He crashed into the wall, colorful insults to nothing in particular falling past his lips on impact. It was no wonder he had screwed up, He hadn't actually flown since-

He shouldn't dwell on past horrors.

Steve folded his wings tightly across his back, what had he been thinking? He knew that he couldn't just fly away, he couldn't just walk outside with a pair of wings. At least, not obviously. So instead he looked towards the other side of this gas station. There was a single rack of hooded jackets of various shades and colors. He grabbed a random black one, he wasn't sure of the size but for now it would have to do. He walked over to his backpack that sat in the corner, he threw the jacket in the bag and then zipped it up and carefully slid it onto his shoulders. He hissed as it jolted his side and then left the store. He practically ran back to his alley.

When he got there he set down his backpack. He opened up a separate pocket on his backpack and then pulled out some bandages. He then glared at the knife stuck in his left side. He hadn't removed it because he knew that when he did it would bleed enough to cause blood loss if he didn't stop the bleeding immediately. He had already lost a lot of blood, as the blood soaked from the edges of his wound left exposed. He knew that he needed to stitch his wound up, but he had used the last of his thread and didn't have access to any more. It will be fine to just bandage it, most likely. He carefully put his hands on the slim hilt, then pulled. The rush of blood was intense, but he managed to bandage his side before he lost too much blood. Luckily the blade was only a couple inches, but still. That could have been a while lot worse.

He watched as a few scarlet speckles soaked through the stark white bandage, but as he watched no more appeared. Steve then took out his new black jacket and threw it on, ignoring the tinge in his wings as they were once again pinned to his back. The jacket was tight enough that a faint outline of his wings could be seen, but as long as he had his backpack on it wouldn't be visible.

He realized suddenly that he would now have to leave. He couldn't risk Bella tipping _them_ off. And she would, he knew she would. They would come to her door, filing her head with lies. He could almost imagine their words, "You liked him, didn't you? Then you found out he was a freak. Don't you want us to fix him, Make him normal, Cut those horrid wings off his back and allow him to live a happy life where he doesn't have to look over his shoulder in fear of not being accepted?"

Steve sighed, he had actually allowed himself to get attached to this hell of a town. It was sad to leave it, but he knew it had to be this way.

Steve pulled out a power bar and ate it, then he drank a few sips of water. After he was done he zipped up his backpack and slipped it over his shoulders. He hissed when the straps tugged at his bandage and caused his wound to flare. He realized that his wound would really hurt for quite a while, even with his unnaturally high pain tolerance level. That was considering it didn't get infected, his wound got infected he was dead. He didn't have any of those antibiotics or anything.

Steve allowed a soft sigh to escape his lips as he walked a few steps forward and then turned. The ally may be dim lit, covered in grime, and have poisoned air, but this ally had become home. Steve let his eyes scan over the large pile of wallets in the corner, the worn purses shoved up against the back wall, and the small rat looking at him as it lay hunched in the corner.

Steve crouched down in front of the rat, and found himself reaching forward and grabbing the rat. The rat allowed him to pick it up, it stared up at him with wide curious eyes. Steve gave it a small piece of a power bar, and it ate hungrily. He realized that he will miss this animal, more than anything. This rat was the only living thing that hadn't despised him, besides Bella but that had drastically changed, He would like to have said this rat had become sort of a friend. This rat was the only friendly face he ever saw, that is if those pitch black orbs that were his eyes could be classified as 'friendly'. But this rat had found a place in Steve's heart, Steve would hate to lose it.

Steve briefly considered taking it with him on his journey, but he would not be allowed to bring it on the bus. Plus he would have to be constantly worried about its safety, a small creature like that wouldn't last long before it would get poisoned by rat poisoning or attacked by someone's dog. Bringing the rat would be too much of a risk, both for Steve and for the rat.

But, it would be nice.

Steve shook his head to clear it, then he crouched down beside the rat. He gave the rat another piece of his power bar. He then whispered a soft, "I'm gonna miss you, But I have to leave. Goodbye."

Steve stood up and then walked away, a frown on his lips as he left the place that had become home. He walked by a garbage can in his way and tossed a few empty power bar wrappers away. He then made his way down the street. He passed the crappy hotel and the run down building that everyone knew was used for drug deals. He kept walking even after that, passing a row of houses that were really disgusting and then a dimly lit weapons store.

Eventually as he walked the houses became less and less run down. He even passed a few nice looking stores. Soon enough, he was in the nicer part of town. The nicer part of town though, wasn't really all that nice. It was nicer than where he used to live, but still home to many criminals. He shifted uncomfortably under the bright street lights that glimmered above him. He liked to lurk in the shadows, not stand where people could see him. He knew that's how you get jumped and mugged. His wings fluttered in nervousness, straining the jacket that tugged at them. His hands lay in his jacket pockets, and his fingers curled around the pocketknife that rested there.

It wasn't long before he came to the bus stop. It wasn't much, only a single empty bench on a trash covered concrete slab. Luckily the benches were a metal mesh on the back, so Steve could rest his back against the bench without worry of his wings being seen. Steve shrugged off his backpack and slid onto the bench, his backpack sat on his lap.

Steve looked up when he heard the sound of several people laughing. He saw a group of five people around his age. The group's people were scrawny and weak, but they still seemed surprisingly happy. The only girl in their group spoke, her voice laced with laughter, "You almost made us late!"

"It was totally worth it!" A guy with dark brown eyes answered, his sun-tanned hands gesturing wildly. His pitch black hair fell slightly into his eyes as he tilted his head back in laughter.

"This isn't funny guys!" The girl spoke, her emerald green eyes glittering. Despite her words, her voice didn't sound very serious. A different guy, this one with dusty brown hair and sky blue eyes, spoke. "Did you see his face?"

They all burst out laughing at the guy's words. Steve shifted uncomfortably on his bench, not used to this many people in one place. Then the people looked at Steve and approached him. Steve leaned back in his seat, clutching his backpack to his chest like it was a lifeline. The guy with dusty brown hair spoke, "Relax. We aren't gonna hurt ya. We just wanna share the bench."

Steve narrowed his eyes threateningly, recognizing the mischievous look that had entered the guy that had earlier said 'it was totally worth it'. A very very mischievous look that blended seamlessly into his face, almost as if he was always that mischievous. The guy gave a toothy grin and then spoke, "Or maybe we will rip you to shreds."

Another guy with black hair elbowed the mischievous one in the side. The mischievous guy hissed in mock pain and then sent his mock attacker a not-so-hostile glare. The girl was staring at Steve, obviously searching for something to say to break the ice. The girl settled with, "Well, I'm Natasha Romanoff."

Natasha was actually quite beautiful, with waves of russet-colored hair that flowed just past her shoulders. Her pain skin contrasted sharply with her emerald green eyes that gave her a sort of fierce look.

The mischievous guy spoke then, "I'm Tony Stark. The one with an IQ higher than you can count. AND the one with the badass gaming skills."

"Whatever! Don't bother denying it, I'm way better and everyone knows it! I'm Bruce Banner by the way." The guy that had elbowed Tony earlier spoke. Honestly, Steve couldn't for the life of him figure out why they were arguing about this _now_ of all times. But by the amused glance the others exchanged Steve guessed this was a normal occurrence.

"I'm Clint Barton." The one with the dusty brown hair and sky blue eyes said. His voice was soft, not threatening. But it still had a roughness to it that said that he wasn't afraid to defend himself if needed.

"I'm Thor Odinson. Do you care to introduce yourself?" A guy spoke, his ice blue eyes shining with mistrust from where they were half hidden beneath his ash blonde hair.

"Steve." Steve only said his first name, for he didn't know his last name. He didn't even want his last name anyway, it had not ever done him much good for his family had never been there for him. As far as Steve was concerned he didn't have a family.

"Are you _bleeding_?" It was Thor that had spoke, his worn voice jerking Steve out of his thoughts. It was then that Steve realized that he felt really cold, except for his left side and the inside of his left arm. He looked at his side, the material of his jacket stuck out slightly where the bandage was. The dark material though seemed even darker, as if wet. His arm was pressed against the material, he stretched his arm out and he saw the inside of it was smeared with a scarlet liquid that could only be blood. Oh. Maybe he hadn't stopped the bleeding as well as he thought.

Steve felt a sudden wave of lightheadedness, but he held it at bay. He put his hand to his side and when it came back it was coated in blood. His stomach clenched in nausea, he spit out a wistful, "Damn."

His stomach twisted again and he couldn't stop the groan that burst forth from his lips. The world around him began to spin, sending a wave of sickening twists in his stomach. His vision kept focusing and unfocusing so fast that he didn't know what to think. He gasped and clenched his eyes shut. His head fell forward, sliding gently into his hands. He wasn't aware of the single word that slipped past his lips, "Damn."

Another groan fell past his lips and he leaned forward until he was resting in his own lap. His head felt fuzzy, his thoughts were slipping away. Then there was a gentle hand on his shoulder and a soft voice saying a soft, "Are you okay?"

The world around Steve began to fade, leaving him slumping limply forward. He gasped and felt himself slip to the side, quickly followed by the impact of him hitting the ground. He heard voices all around him, and the floor beneath him was so cold, to cold. He shivered and curled into a ball.

He then felt something touch his injured side, he lashed out his legs and heard a gasp of pain when they collided with whatever had jarred his wound. He whimpered and closed his eyes. His thoughts were uncoordinated and he seemed to be in two different places at once.

He heard a tearing sound and then the flapping of wings, he heard his own agonizing screams. He felt the cold concrete beneath him, he felt the slick feel of a cold metal table beneath him. He heard cold and calculating voices that sounding grating, he heard kind and gentle voices that sounded soothing. He felt a prick of a needle on his neck, he felt the needle in his wrist draining his blood and making him weaker and weaker. He felt his eyes jolt open and he saw a blur of different colors, his eyes were open but all he saw was white and white and white.

"Flashbacks." A physiatrist's voice reminded Steve. It was from long ago, but the voice sounded like it came from here and now. The memory echoed through his head, and for a moment he saw the physiatrist sitting across from him, Her long blonde hair tied up in a perfect bun, her leaf green eyes full of emotions he was sure she wasn't really feeling. The women spoke, her voice kind and gentle and somehow _fake_ , "Steve your traumatized. Your mind is replaying the events in your head over and over, trying to make sense of what happened."

Then suddenly, there was nothing. Steve felt numb, limp, and lifeless. A small part of him wanted to open his eyes, wanted to jerk out his wings, wanted to fight and not let this numbness take over. But most of him just wanted to drift in unconsciousness, wanted to just let go of the tension that was forever laced in his muscles, wanted to just give in.

Steve felt a little sad that that small part of him that was stubborn was strong as hell. But either way, his eyes shot open. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness, there was never this much light in his ally and for a moment he fought panic at thinking he was back in that place. But then he realized that the light was a blueish-whiteish light, not the stark white glow of the lab lights at that place. He still jerked his hands upward to make sure they were not strapped down. They weren't, a big relief.

Then, he remembered. He remembered getting stabbed, being betrayed, having to leave his home. He remembered all that blood and then showing weakness right in front of all those people.

Oh just fan-fucking-tastic.

Steve realized he felt really comfortable, beneath him was something softer than he had felt for a long time. Steve heard voices close by. Steve kept his eyes closed and fell limp, trying to appear asleep. Maybe he could find out what the hell was going on. He listened in to the voice currently speaking and recognized it as Bruce's. It was saying, "So... Whatcha doing?"

It was Tony that replied in an irritated voice, "The same exact thing I was doing when you asked me two seconds ago!"

Bruce spoke again, "Well, it's not like we can talk about anything else!" Sarcasm easily blended with his voice, "Besides. It's funny seeing you pissed, you have so much self control."

Bruce snickered and Tony spoke, "I know, I'm like Joan of Arc or something."

Bruce spoke, "Joan of Arc was a girl. So... Yeah I guess."

"Your so childish for a 14-year-old." Tony teased and Steve could practically _hear_ the smirk on Tony's lips.

"And your not?" Bruce scoffed. Steve opened his eyes to see the two of them smirking at each other. They were sitting on chairs that were extremely tall, leaving their feet dangling high off the ground. Bruce was eating a bowl of ice cream, Tony had had gone back to fiddling with some colored wires sticking out of a metal object. Steve wondered what the object was, but he didn't dare ask.

"He's awake." Bruce announced, elbowing Tony in the side to get his attention. Tony hissed at Bruce and spoke in an exasperated voice, "Ow! I'm gonna get a bruise if you keep elbowing me like your gutting a deer!"

Steve thought that was a really weird analogy, but by the way Bruce and Tony were smirking at each other you would think it was the funniest thing in the world. These people are strange. Tony then turned to Steve and gave a smirk, "Glad you decided to join the land of the living."

Steve blinked at him, and sat up. He was instantly aware that he was wearing a shirt that had slits in the back. His wings were fitted through the slits, so that they were outside his shirt but still folded to hide behind his back. His wings were exposed. He was unsettled a moment, but quickly pulled himself together. Instead curiosity filled him and made him say, "How long was I out?"

Bruce answered him, "Couple days. We were afraid you wouldn't wake up."

Steve blinked at him in shock, it hadn't felt like that long at all. Then, Steve couldn't help looking to see what was so soft below him. It was a mattress, a bed, with a sheet and everything. Steve blinked in surprise and looked at the fluffy pillow behind him. His eyes widened and he was on his feet in an instant, these people had money. Actual money. Steve hadn't seen anyone with a lot of actual money in forever.

Steve's wings fluttered on his back in anxiety. He knew that if they didn't like him, he would be dead in seconds, because people with money were people with guns and people with guns are very dangerous. But then Steve glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small room, the walls and floor were all bare grey concrete. The bed and the chairs were the only things in the room. The door that led outside was a thick bright yellow. Steve was confused, if they had money wouldn't they live in a house and not in a weird concrete room. Did that mean they actually didn't have money?

Tony slid from his chair, landing silently beside Steve. Steve flinched so hard that his whole body jerked backward. He was back on his feet in seconds, completely unruffled, as if nothing had happened at all. Tony's eyes flashed with something akin to understanding, though Steve didn't quite know why. Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony, his hands trembling as a jolt of pain shot through his side from the quick movement.

Steve was suddenly aware that he was cold. His whole body shook with sharp little shivers, his arms wrapped themselves around his chest. His wings fluttered unsteadily on his back. Steve wanted to shield them around him because they were warm and comfy, but he didn't dare.

Instead he spared a downwards glance. He has expected to still be wearing his own dark grey t-shirt that he had roughly cut slits in, simply because it was what he had last been wearing. Instead though, a dark red t-shirt clung to his frame. He felt a little bad that he had to ruin this guy's t-shirt by cutting huge slits in the back of it. Luckily though, he still had on his same pair of worn jeans. He didn't have any shoes on, but the black socks that were on his feet were his own as well.

Steve's gaze was torn upward when he heard the sound of Tony speaking, "Well, Steve, I thought I had met the last of the fallen angels. But apparently I hadn't."

"How many times do I have to tell you that we are just people with wings, _not_ fallen angels." Bruce snapped, but his forest green eyes glittered with mirth.

"Yeah, Whatever." Tony responded. Steve was shocked, their were others like him. He hadn't known that he wasn't the only one. Then, wings unfolded from Tony's back. Pitch black wings truly the color of the darkest night. Steve couldn't help but let his jaw drop open, Tony had wings. Steve was speaking before he could register his words, "You have wings. I thought I was the only one."

Bruce jumped off his chair and stretched out his own pair of black wings, these wings looked very similar except they were the tiniest bit smaller. Bruce grinned at Steve's shocked expression. Steve let his own wings unfold, his bright golden wings. Bruce and Tony fluttered their dark wings in response.

Then the door behind him opened, and Thor stepped inside. He stared at everyone with their wings out and unfolded his own wings. His wings were a light ash blonde that matched his hair. His wings were stretched out all the way and I could swear his posture was threatening. He spoke, "You are probably wondering where you are, the answer is the Avengers base of operations."

"The Avengers base of operations?" I asked him, wondering what exactly that meant. It was Bruce that's replied to me, "Don't sugar coat it Thor. You are in a house with what we believe are all the people with wings. We take down violent mass murders, rob banks, pickpocket, and commit credit card scams that would baffle your mind."

Steve gave him a strange look, not quite believing him. So these people stop criminals that hurt people. But leave robbers and scammers alone because they are some as well. That pretty much summed up what Steve usually does, but on a much _much_ larger scale.

"Anyways though, let's go find Clint and Tasha." Bruce said, elbowing Tony once again in the side to show him that he meant for himself and Tony to leave to find them. Tony sighed and followed Bruce out the door, Leaving Steve and Thor alone. Thor folded his wings against his back and Steve followed suit.

Thor suddenly pulled up his long shirt slightly to reveal a gun holster tied to his belt. He took out the handgun from the holster, but didn't point it at Steve. Steve froze instantly at the appearance of a gun, but listened intently to Thor's words, "For now, we are letting you stay here. Letting you recover from your wound somewhere safe. But keep in mind if you make any move to hurt any one of us you will be dead in seconds."

Thor flipped the gun in his hands almost threateningly. Steve watched the movement with fear prickling in his nerves. Steve spoke quickly, "I promise I won't hurt anyone. I'm not here to cause any of you any harm."

Thor slid the gun back into its holster, His ice blue eyes sharp. His rough voice coughed out a sharp, "You better not be lying."

It was then the door opened and Bruce and Tony reappeared, Clint and Natasha at their heels. Steve spoke to them, curiosity overcoming the fear of Thor's gun. "I was told you two also have wings. Is this true?"

Clint unfolded his wings in response, and the dusty brown wings were larger than any Steve had ever seen. Clint glanced at Natasha, who seemed reluctant to unfold her own wings. Never the less Natasha unfolded her wings at Clint's glance, Her wings were a beautiful glossy dark russet color. Steve wondered why she was so reluctant considering her wing's beauty and the fact that those around her all had wings... _Those_ _all around her had wings_... Steve still had trouble actually realizing that he wasn't the only winged person in this world.

Steve sat back down on the bed, he felt overwhelmed. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, so much that his head was spinning with all this new knowledge. Steve was suddenly jerked out of his daze by Clint's words, "It's a lot to take in, I know."

Steve looked up to see that Clint was now the only one with Steve in the room. Steve wondered when the others had left. Steve was sure that it was likely that the others were lurking right outside the door in case they need to burst in, but for now only Clint was in front of him. Clint climbed into the chair that Bruce had previously occupied. Clint let out a huff of annoyance and then shifted into the other seat that Tony had sat in, muttering softly about something along the lines of leaving ice cream all over the place. Then Clint straightened and spoke, "I'm on guard duty, aka I gotta make sure you don't go nuts and attack us. So just ignore my existence and sleep or something."

Steve raised an eyebrow at Clint. "I've been asleep for what feels like forever, I'm not gonna sleep. I'm gonna ask you what in the world Tony was messing with when he was here, I'm kinda curious."

Clint barked a laugh that sounded very false, and then answered with a grin. "Most likely a bomb."

Steve gave him a baffled look, not quite sure if he was being serious or not. Clint then leaned back in his chair, yawned, and said "So... What type of person are you? I'm more of the smart, sexy, beat-you-in-chess kinda guy."

Steve decided the least he could do was answer his question honestly, and so he did. "I'm more of the defensive, hostile, hate-the-world kinda guy."

Clint scoffed, "That's cause your alone. You won't be anymore. That is if you stay of course. You can go off and stay homeless and starving and always-in-danger if you want."

Steve gave him a strange look, his thoughts on Thor and his gun, and then spoke, "I don't think I'm that welcome here."

Clint snorted, then spoke, "We just need to get to know you."

Steve doubted they would want him in their group, ever. He didn't have any special skills, and he was weak and not exactly friendly. Then he asked Clint, "Where are we?"

Clint answered quickly, "An old bomb shelter that we've redesigned with the money we've stolen. It's in the middle of some forest, isolated. It makes it safer, Ya know?"

Steve gave a little jerk of his head in response. Clint suddenly spoke, "Well... I'm not supposed to tell you this…But… I guess I should explain who we are. I know that I'd be dying to know. I'm an archer; I shoot down security cameras and disarm security guards without making a sound that would alert the police. Natasha is very deceptive, it's really weird what she can make you believe, She finds a way to get civilians away from the danger so they don't get hurt. Tony is an engineer, he makes our bombs to blow stuff up and also makes other electronic gadgets to unlock doors and stuff. Bruce is our science guy, he makes the chemical compounds and stuff for gas that knock people out. Thor is our sniper, if worse comes to pass he can shoot people, not fatally but enough to put them out of commission."

Steve blinked in surprise, these misfits were about the best robbery crew you could come up with. Steve would just get in the way. He didn't have any special skills or anything. At least, not in a long time. A very long time. Steve shook his head viciously, not wanting to get swept up in his past.

Steve then sent Clint a glance, to see he was curled up in a ball in his chair. Clint was tapping at his phone screen, his earbuds softly playing music in his ears. Steve watched him curiously, to be honest he had never actually seen one of those touch screen phones, No one had enough money for one where he lived. Clint spoke, without drawing his eyes away from the screen "You're staring. Why?"

"No reason." Steve responded quickly, his eyes darting away from Clint. Steve sat on the edge of the bed, his wings fluttering on his back in nervousness that he couldn't quite shake. Clint sent Steve an amused glance, which Steve answered with a hesitant half smile. Clint then spoke, "It's the phone, isn't it? What's wrong with my phone?"

"Nothing." Steve instantly replied. Then the words were rushing past his lips faster than he could stop them, "I have just never seen an actual touch screen phone before."

Clint looked shocked, and Steve wondered if he had said something wrong. He must have said something wrong. Then Clint said a soft, "You have never seen one! Then you haven't lived! Come here," Clint gestured to the seat beside him, "Wipe off the ice cream first. Then sit here. I don't know how phone's work like Tony, but I know what they can do. I'll show you, come here."

Steve wondered if Clint was being serious. Steve hesitantly walked over to the chair. He used his hand to wipe off the ice cream of the edge of the chair, then he wiped his hands on his jeans. He crawled up into the seat, wincing at the way his muscles moved beneath his wound. Once he managed to be sitting on the chair beside Clint, a little embarrassed at just how long it took, he was staring into the image of a hawk on a lock screen. "Well, we all have code names when we talk on the radio in the middle of heists. I'm Hawkeye, hence the lock screen."

Clint turned the phone away for a moment and when he showed it back to Steve it was unlocked on the home screen. Clint began to point to different apps and explain their functions, while Steve looked on with his eyes filled with curiosity. Every once in a while Steve would ask a question and Clint would answer it, but mostly it was just Clint explaining stuff about phones and about the apps he had.

Before Steve knew it, Clint's words began to blend together. Steve's eyelids dropped and he shifted into a more comfortable position in his chair. He watched the words that were now on the phone screen, but they blurred until he couldn't read them. Steve couldn't stop the next yawn that passed his lips, or the one after that, or the one after that. Steve blinked for too long for it to really be called blinking. Steve allowed his wings to unfold from his back, they slipped in the space between the armrest and the seat, the edges of his limp wings brushed against the floor.

Steve wasn't aware of the fact that his eyes had slid closed, or the fact that his thoughts had drifted, or the fact that his body had slumped forward in the seat. Steve wasn't aware, at the time, that exhaustion had taken him into sleep.

Steve was aware though, after he's come to term that he was in fact asleep, that it was the best sleep he'd had in a very long time. It was the best sleep even though he was in an unfamiliar place with people he didn't know and was splayed out on a tiny chair that honestly wasn't all that comfortable to sleep on. Steve couldn't quite understand why he slept so well here, not at all.

It must have been because Steve just couldn't shake off the feeling that maybe for once in a very long time, he might just be able to not be alone.

But first Steve would have to earn their trust.

* * *

 **That ended up being extremely long. I guess I just started typing and couldn't stop until now, sometimes I'm like that. Anyways… If you enjoyed and want to read more than please leave a review, a favorite, or/and a follow. I hope you enjoyed, Goodbye.**


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